


Nefarious

by opheliacelene



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Psychopaths, M/M, Murder Mystery, Thriller
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:08:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29601522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/opheliacelene/pseuds/opheliacelene
Summary: The year is 2021, and amidst the chaos that is the pandemic, unpredictable natural disasters, political disarray, and the general upsets of the world, a storm is brewing within South Korea. A string of murders, all committed by seemingly one person is being mysteriously committed. Crawling alongside the gangs on the streets, a new challenger duo have arrived. Unbeknownst to the police force and gangs alike, this duo isn't interested in making friends. They commit these heinous acts simply for the thrill of the crime, living a on the high side of life while wrapped within the exciting love they share. The police believe they can find this sinister murderer and put an end to another menace within society, the gangs want to find the people responsible for running on their streets, and the killers themselves? They simply want to find the next source of happiness!---In other words, a SeongJoong fic based slightly off Harley Quinn and The Joker / Murder Mysteries. You're welcome.
Relationships: Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	Nefarious

**December 10th, 2021**

* * *

There was a strange wailing sound coming from down the hallway. The noise was quite loud, echoing along the cement walls and sliding beneath the tiny gap of space under the iron door. There were no windows, air shafts, or any source of ventilation besides the gentle whirring of a metal built-in fan blowing around stale air in the corner of the room. All that existed within the space was a camera, a table, and two opposing chairs. The camera was positioned in the corner of the room, viewing from the ceiling at a birds eye view. The table was long, heavy, and screwed down into the cement flooring. It supported iron loops at one end, and attached to them were a pair of heavy duty metal handcuffs, the type used for the most dangerous of prisoners. They were currently occupied.  The door finally swung  open, creaking on its rusty hinges as another person entered the too empty room. A stocky man wearing a hilariously out of place suit stepped inside the small space, followed after by dual prison guards who both were armed with batons. Ignoring the presence of the guards, the prisoner’s eyes meet the newcomer’s. Black to brown. Fear and liquid nerves against pools of expressionless ink. The prisoner kept his handcuffed hands together on the table, a polite half smile decorating his charming features as he nods to the man welcomingly.

The convict was dressed in all orange, something most commonly thought to be only a stereotype used in cliché movies and awkward television shows. Naturally, he himself wasn't exactly thrilled to find out it was true. Orange was one of his favorite colors, however in this case it wasn't too enjoyable. His eyes catch the reporter scanning over him, and the male has no qualms flashing another chagrin smirk in his direction. He knew of his looks, his pretty face, the confidence held in his posture was outspoken enough— how could someone like him possibly end up in a place like this? For he had straight ruby-toned locks, currently slightly damp and hanging, like a veil halfway covering his eyes. His plump rosette lips covered up pearly white teeth, and when shown his smile holds an unspoken threat in their sharp canines. Underneath his smile lay secrets, however they hadn't been told in a large amount of time. He was of average size, some may say on the shorter side. However his petite build didn’t take away from his terrifying aura. A type of presence you hear of in hushed rumors, the very type you'd stay away from on an empty street. 

The interviewer pulled the other chair out and sat his heavy bosom onto the metal surface with a deep sigh. He glanced at the prisoner again, then down at his clipboard, seeming to remember something as he fiddles with his suit pocket for a few moments and produces a recording device. The machine is placed on the table between the two, the convict’s lips quivering in amusement as the tape is started. The fat man clears his throat, then forces a fake smile and speaks in a gravelly and audibly satisfying voice.  "Kim Hongjoong. That is your name, correct?" He seemed on edge, which was always entertaining for Hongjoong. For them to send someone like this into a room with someone like himself. It was almost as if they were asking for him to have fun. The smirk on his lips grows to a full blown grin, the corners of his mouth stretching to show off his modified smile. Razor sharp, his canine teeth were, the procedure had cost a pretty penny— but it had surely been worth every cent. 

"You actually would be right, yes." His own intonation was velvety smooth, like that of an angel, sweet, and yet so venomous. Exactly how he lured people into his trap. Most of the time all it took was a smile for a person to be considered a dead man walking. He let his hands open slightly, wrists still held to the cool surface of the table by the restricting handcuffs. This, along with the natural constant curvature of his lips showed signs of openness, silently stating that he was ready to be interviewed. The innocuous man swallowed, the fear within his chubby body bringing saliva flooding into his mouth. He drops his gaze to his paperwork and nods, glancing up a few times while searching. The slight tremor in his fingertips was thrilling, Hongjoong sucking in a soft breath between parted lips as those onyx lenses flicker over the man's hands. He flipped over a page and continued on speaking.

“Well then, let us start with something simple. Why did you do it?” He did not really care about receiving the answer. That much was clear by how sweat had begun to spring forward from his shiny forehead, his pudgy cheeks flushed and those mud like irises swiveling behind baggy flesh. A soft tapping sound had harmonized with the moaning from down the hall, and adding up the shifting of the man's long suit coat, the prisoner could easily deduce that he was shaking his leg. Whether it be out of nerves or boredom-- it was amusing. Hongjoong could easily pick up everything about his presence, it was as though he were reading a beginners novel for a child. The way his hands clung onto his clipboard as if the man before him was free and armed. How those sausage fingers scramble at his front pocket and withdraw a red handkerchief, dabbing away fat mottled droplets of sweat. A serene taciturn fills the air, before the affable tone of Hongjoong permeated the interviewer’s ears.

“Why did I do it?” His voice didn’t falter. There wasn’t the slightest of wavering nor uncertainty in his words. He tilts his head to the left, a strand of hair that had shifted from the wet mop on his head falling in front of his left eye as a change in his tone is brought to light. “I did it because it seemed fun. I did it because I wanted to, and because I knew I would enjoy every moment of it. I did it because he deserved it.” He found pleasure in the way the interviewer reacted to him after that, swallowing briskly and eyeing up the questions on his flimsy clipboard so he could finish up quickly. "Or were you referring to all the others?"

He was awful at hiding his emotions, Hongjoong could see the fervent consternation in his eyes. If he were a bit closer he would no doubt be able to hear the frantic beating of his overworked heart. For a moment… Hongjoong couldn’t help but wonder if he could manage to give this man a heart attack. After all, the clogging of his arteries must have started happening by now… the large interviewer had left damp fingermarks on the pure white sheets of his papers as he flipped through the prearranged questions. The silence dragged on, and Hongjoong found himself sliding his wrist in circles within the metal of the handcuff. The movement made a slight clinking noise, bringing the interviewer to glance up with worry that he'd become free- only to find Hongjoong still staring at him with those abyss-like orbs. In a panic, he would spew out a cursory question, spit flying from his meaty lips and landing on the papers clutched in a trembling hand.  “You did that for fun?” His eyes had taken a wider frame, head tilting slightly as though Hongjoong had misspoken. 

“We all do things that are fun, are you alluding that my way of having fun is wrong?” Hongjoong trails a dulled fingernail in circles against the metal before him, hands practically shaking in delight. 

“How is claiming the lives of five people; an innocent family, fun?” He seemed disgusted by Hongjoong’s words, and he swallowed deeply as though choking back down his breakfast. 

“Sometimes the feeling is the same as hunting a deer. Thrilling, satisfying… empowering. The chase, the false hope, the catch, watching the fear and pain drain from their eyes. The only difference is that deer have less of a chance to fight back. You see, humans are feistier.” Hongjoong shrugs, raising his head again and smiling with a truly relaxed expression. “We all do things in order to feel an adrenaline rush. Hunting, skydiving, racing, bar-hopping, watching the same exact horror film twelve times in a row— so tell me. What is it you desire? There must be a reason you chose to come here? Aren’t I a type of ‘wild animal’? Doesn’t it give you a thrill, siting so close to someone who has done so much to men like you?” He didn’t wait for an answer, sliding the nail he’d been pressing into the table melodically just seconds before across the short space with a scratching sound. “Not to mention the man was a pig. Thought it okay to hit on a pretty man and not take no for an answer… and as for the family, well they asked too many questions and gave to little answers. So I took matters into my own hands, and made sure I enjoyed every moment.”

The man swallowed yet again, his adam's apple barely seen due to the layers of fat wrapped around his neck. He was a people-pleasing pig. That much was obvious, and Hongjoong did not want to speak to him any longer. The way he seemed so pompous- eager and naïve enough to come into the same space as Hongjoong unprepared. This man had probably boasted about how confident he was in completing this interview to his coworkers, claiming it would be a piece of cake. Was betting on coming home to his brainless wife and annoying children with a new promotion. If only he knew. Hongjoong wished he would just cut to the chase. “Why do you act as though you are not afraid to die? You should’ve known the repercussions of your actions. There is no other alternative way out for you! You are sentenced to Death Row. How can you be so… pleased with yourself? Don’t you fear?” The man had raised his voice, and seemed to want Hongjoong to be surprised by the notion of claiming he should fear death. 

A high gasp sounds from Hongjoong, petite hands twisting within the cuffs to cover his plush lips in a look of surprised horror. “You mean it? I’m truly going to be killed?” His lips curve into a sadistic smile, and a sugary laugh bubbles out of his mouth. Hsi hands fall to the table with a somewhat muffled clicking sound, pressure releasing from around his wrists. The boy raised an eyebrow, staring unfalteringly at the interviewer, who seemed only seconds away from cardiac arrest. The corner of his mouth twitched again before his body smoothly leaned in closer to the man, speaking what would be his last words for the interview. “I am a killer. Why would I fear death when I know it comes to all? If I feel happy killing others, then being afraid to die would make no sense. All of you investigators are the same, boring dull questions, cocky presumptuous attitudes, and don't get me started on your appearances. Utterly foul… it’s exhausting. Now please leave, those cuffs were hurting my wrists, and I don’t feel like watching you sweat through your shirt any more.” 

Hongjoong leaned back in his seat, shuffling his wrists a bit before tossing the cuffs onto the table with a gentle sigh. The interviewer stumbled back in his chair, his gaze on the restraints which no longer were on the prisoner’s body. The sound of his large frame landing upon the ground sounded, his grunts of panic filling the room. It was like watching a pig run from a farmer, Hongjoong watched the ceiling, no longer interested in such an unattractive man and unbothered by the guards now pointing their tranquilizer guns at his back from behind. . With a shudder, the interviewer gathered his things off the concrete, stood up, and left. 

“Besides… who says I’m going to be here long enough to die?” Hongjoong whispers gently, that graceful smirk returning to his lips as more guards pour into the room. His lover would come for him soon, he always has, and he always will.

The wailing next door began again, and Hongjoong closed his eyes.


End file.
